Haunted
by jamesandlilypotter81
Summary: Post 2x08. Lexa tells Clarke what she already knows: there's no coming back from what she's done.


**So here's my first foray in something other than Harry Potter. If you haven't seen the midseason finale, don't read, because spoilers galore follow. Hope you like it!**

Raven's cries were deafening, and though, logically, she knew that it wasn't possible that the Grounders' shouts were drowned out by Raven's anguish, she could almost swear that it was. From where she stood, knife still gripped in her hand and completely surrounded by Grounders, Clarke knew that it wouldn't be long before she was tied next to Finn's still body.

More yelling, shuffling feet, and Lexa's cry of, "It is done," weren't enough to sway her from where she stood, staring at the fence surrounding Camp Jaha, desperately trying to see their expressions, trying to gauge whether or not her people saw her as the monster she clearly was. Only the Grounders falling silent snapped Clarke out of her daze, and she turned her head away from Raven's continued—if more muffled, as if someone was trying to calm her down—cries.

"We should kill her," Indra snarled, breaking the silence and lifting her spear, glaring at Clarke with wide, hateful eyes. For a brief moment, Clarke ignored the overwhelming answering consensus, and instead wondered what could've happened to make this woman so cold, so harsh. It occurred to her that maybe Indra was once forced to kill a man she loved. Raven's knife slipped from her hand, and she found herself staring at Indra, seeing only her own future.

"No," Lexa said, once again silencing the rest of the Grounders. "I wish to speak to Clarke of the Sky People alone." Clarke didn't know what she expected Lexa's reaction to be, but it certainly wasn't the calm look on the commander's face. Without bothering to acknowledge Indra's growling as she passed by, Clarke followed Lexa into the tent, remembering that the last time she had been there, she had been given an ultimatum that she hadn't even been willing to consider.

It felt like decades had passed since then.

"What you did tonight will haunt you until the end of your days," Lexa said, interrupting her train of thought. Clarke looked up, not realizing that she had ever looked down. "I don't say it to hurt you." There was something in her expression that Clarke couldn't understand. It wasn't pity or anger, which were the only two emotions that would make sense—the only two emotions that everyone else would feel.

"You don't need to say it at all," Clarke said, her eyes drifting down to her bloodied hand, a wave of ice cold enveloping her. It was all she could do to remain standing on her own two feet. "If you want to kill me, don't think I'll go down without a fight." She tore her eyes away from her blood soaked shirt—Finn's blood, blood _you_ drew from him, she reminded herself, as if she could ever forget—and focused only on the young commander. Instead of replying, Lexa reached for something at her waist, and Clarke took one step back, preparing for a fight. But instead of a weapon, the Grounder pulled out a scrap of cloth, handing it over. Tentatively, Clarke reached for it, and was about to wipe her hand clean when Lexa shook her head.

"It's not for the blood." Something about the way Lexa said it while staring at her face made her reach up and touch her cheek with her unsullied, non-murdering hand. It was only then that Clarke realized that she'd been shedding silent tears since she had made the decision to forego Raven's desperate plan and instead give Finn the only thing she could.

_Thanks, Princess_.

"You are strong, Clarke of the Sky People. Stronger than the ones called _Thelonious_," she said the name in distaste_, _"and Marcus." She watched silently as Clarke wiped away the traitorous tears from her face, the only thing betraying what she really felt inside. "I can see why Anya would agree to help you broker peace." Somehow, the comment elicited a cross between a sob and a laugh from Clarke, because everyone who was on her side kept dying and Anya really hadn't been all that agreeable.

"If you're not going to kill me, what do you want?" Clarke asked, knowing she was close to breaking apart completely, knowing that she didn't want to show such weakness in front of the Grounder commander, and knowing that Lexa could already sense that weakness anyway.

"I have a new condition for the truce to begin," Lexa began, and Clarke's heart both filled with hope and seemed to stop with dread. Because perhaps the Grounder wanted her dead after all, perhaps stealing their form of justice required a price. Perhaps she could escape the guilt, the pain, and, worst of all, the certainty that she had done what she had to do. "I will only work with _you_." The words held no meaning for her.

"I don't understand," she muttered shaking her head. "My mother is in charge. She's our Chancellor." Lexa was unmoved by the statement.

"That is none of my concern." Panic welled up within her. She had wanted to go back to Camp Jaha, to escape, to breathe, for just a moment. She wanted to see her people rescued from Mount Weather, and then she wanted to disappear, break down, fall apart. To be the only one that Lexa would work with meant that that could never happen.

"Would you really risk war, forever losing the men who've been turned into Reapers, just to only work with me?" She didn't expect Lexa to back down, so it wasn't surprising in the least when the Grounder nodded.

"What you did tonight will haunt you until the end of your days, and I intend to see your haunted eyes until that day comes." Lexa's tone was the same as always, cool, authoritative, and unbending. But there was something else, and for the first time since she had seen all the dead unarmed Grounders, killed _because of her,_ Clarke felt something more than dread, fear, and confusion.

"Is that really how much you value your revenge? That you'd happily watch me suffer?" she demanded, furious with the Grounder commander, and filled with pity for herself, but especially for Finn. Finn, who had been her rock and moral compass, and who had completely unraveled _because of her_.

(And if she was furious with him, too, she ignored it, because he had been looking for _her_, and he had _died_ for _her, _and she almost resented that he wasn't as strong as the others, the others who hadn't gone mad with desperation to find their loved ones.)

"Blood must have blood, and it is done. This is not about revenge." Her hard eyes—which had once before briefly flickered with pity when she stated the simple truth, _then he dies for you—_softened almost imperceptibly. "We are all haunted, Clarke of the Sky People. Even the strongest need to be reminded of that." Clarke stared blankly at Lexa, her brain sluggishly trying to piece together what the commander had said. She expected only two reactions, pity or anger. She had expected Raven's anger, the Grounders' anger, expected her mother's pity, as well as the pity of the others at Camp Jaha. (She had also expected fear and whispers of _monster_, but she is what she is, and a word could do nothing to change that.)

She had not expected understanding and even respect.

Clarke pocketed the scrap of cloth, somehow unable to give back the memento of Lexa's brusque kindness, and held out her bloodied, murdering hand.

Without flinching or hesitation, Lexa took it.


End file.
